


I Don't Need To Fake It

by mvtthewmurdvck



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Background Ex-Boyfriend Billy Russo, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Guns Without Roses, Idiots in Love, Like Real Quick, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Reunions, fake relationship to real relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 13:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvtthewmurdvck/pseuds/mvtthewmurdvck
Summary: When Matt asks you to take him to an event, the secrets slowly unravel and the safe world you thought you lived in, gets a little unsafer.





	I Don't Need To Fake It

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to those who provide prompts over at my tumblr, you all made this with me.
> 
> This was later split into two new WIPs from this original one.

There were only a handful of moments in your life you could say you regretted.

One was the day you wore a skirt on the windiest day of the year, you had known the weather forecast, and decided to brave it all the same. It had been the day you ran into your ex-boyfriend from college, and while Jessica had told you it wasn’t as bad as you thought, the group of men who catcalled you could still be heard in your nightmares. You were grateful that at least Jessica was there, not sure you’d have had the strength to silence them yourself. 

The  _second_  was the night you broke things off with Matt. It had hurt, more than anything else ever had. The pain had woven itself into your chest, rendering you breathless as you whispered the words between sobs and snot.  _‘I can’t do this anymore,_ ’ you whimpered, picking up your bag as you moved into the night. Your shoulder still had the scar from where you had leant against the wall outside his building, sliding down as it cut into you, not feeling the cold chilly air or the blood. 

The third time was agreeing to be his  _girlfriend_  for the night so he could enter a gala. 

He hadn’t been invited, but you were. It was Anvil’s annual fundraiser, and at some point when the two of you had been together, you must have mentioned it. You weren’t surprised to find him at your front door, but you had been surprised he hadn’t come for his shirt—the one you had kept because you couldn’t get rid of him altogether. 

You had  _stupidly_  thought the night the two of you ended things was the worst night until that night came along two weeks later. Seeing him again stung, every fibre in your body twisting uncomfortably as you tried to remain level-headed. Then you went numb—impossibly paralysed—as Matt told you the real reason he left you alone at night, the words rolling from his tongue as they punctured the air between you. 

_“I’m sorry,” he murmured._  
_Your hand pressed to your heart. “You should be.”_

Matt had saved you. 

Not as the lawyer by day, but by the devil at night. The fact you recalled it so quickly after he told you everything made your head spin, and it took all your strength not to vomit where you stood. He  _tried_  to comfort you, and you stepped back, putting more distance between you as rage began to take over. You wanted to hurl things, you wanted to tell him to get out and never see him again. You knew it would only hurt you in the long run. 

 _“You knew… you knew who I worked for.”_  
Matt dipped his head, nodding. “Every time you told me what you did, I knew. Yeah.”   
“You let me lie… why?”   
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to ask you to share a part of yourself you weren’t ready for.” 

Your heart was slamming into your chest, your brain a mushy mess as you tried to process everything. Lowering to your sofa, you sat on the edge, your hands cupping your face as Matt stood fixed in place. 

_“I didn’t want you to worry…” you said weakly.  
Matt nodded, removing the glasses from his nose. “Same.” _

The two of you talked more frankly than you ever had. You told Matt how you had managed to get involved, how you had been given the job because Russo had known your brother. He wanted to protect you, he said. Something about promises between brothers, and you believed him, falling for the charm and the dark eyes that led you to drop your guard. You told Matt how the promotion came just before the two of you began dating—after you and Russo had ended things—but you were forced to remain a part of Anvil. You told Matt how you were fearful of explaining to him that you were working for a private military company, one that harboured criminals; he explained to you how he was afraid you’d ask him to choose one part of himself when he knew he couldn’t. 

It hurt to be so honest, to let the walls down. To stand still, not running from anything, not hiding or concealing. 

Hours had ticked by, and as the sun began to rise, he asked you if he could accompany you. He had suspicions someone was on the inside, and you were overwhelmed from tiredness and raw emotions you agreed. You only realised how stupid your decision had been when you were slipping the dress on, his hand knocking on your front door. 

People knew you had a boyfriend. Your colleagues didn’t know the two of you had split, something that made his lips curl as the cab drove down the well-lit city street. 

“Wishful thinking?” Matt asked with a coy smile spread across his face. 

Your eyes turned to look out the window. “No… I’ve just had  _better_  things to discuss.” 

A silence fell over the two of you after that, allowing your mind to wander to things you really didn’t wish too.  _Could he tell when your heart skipped a beat? Could he tell when you were hungry_ —having so effectively guessed when you needed to eat? Was there any part of your relationship that he hadn’t cheated with, or had he used his skills on you like he did the people who did wrong? 

The car came to a slow stop before the building, and Matt helped you out, a warm smile on his face—one you almost believed was real. His hand found your hip, holding it just like he always had; his lips found your cheek, his smile just as wide as you once knew it was. To anyone else, you were a  _happy_  couple. But you weren’t, it was fake,  _staged_.

“Smile, Y/N,” Matt whispered close to your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the skin that warmed you immediately. “I’m assuming we’re on camera.”

Snorting, you turned your head to meet his, wishing you could enjoy how close he was. Wishing you could enjoy the scent of his aftershave mixing with your perfume, hoping it stained your skin. “Six in the entrance hall to be  _exact_.”

His breath moved over your skin as his head turned, leading you into the main room as the music became louder, and the instruments changed into something chirpier. You didn’t need special powers or unusual abilities to know how many women and men with guns there were, you could just sense it. The number of bullets in this entire building—collectively—would be more than you had ever seen, and you had been working for Anvil for a number of years. 

Your hand brushed over your thigh, where your concealed handgun was. Matt may have been able to sense anything, but you needed your own guarantee.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your eyes moved to meet Matt, his hand holding out a flute that you quickly took. “Tell you  _what_?”

His lips curled into a smile, one that you would fall for if you didn’t already know him so well. “You have a gun against your thigh?” You narrowed your eyes in his direction. “Y/N, I’d keep  _you_  safe. That’s my first priority—if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Taking the opportunity to drink from your glass, you purposefully let your eyes wander around the room, choosing to ignore him. You could tell him everything, about how you barely slept—how he haunted both your dreams and nightmares. The man in the red suit, both a friend and a foe. You could have told him that the night he let you walk out the door was the night you chose to find a quieter job, one behind a desk, never wanting to see him. 

Instead, you just touched the site where the bullet had hit you the night he saved you, pulling the flute from your lips. “I don’t need  _you_  to keep me safe, Matthew. I can save  _myself_.”

His expression was unreadable, but the softness had gone around his smile. His hand pressed itself to the bottom of your spine, and your lips parted as he rolled his lips. “I don’t doubt that, but you shouldn’t  _have_  too.”

Matt’s comment irked you. It made something inside of you twist, and you tried to fight it, but you couldn’t. Your eyes hardened as they turned to meet his, piercing into them as you wished he could see—praying he felt the damage he had done to you. You had lied, yes, but he had concealed an entirely different life—and everyone you knew was aware of it.

“Why? Because the other man in our lives will swing in and rescue me?” Your brow arched, your voice low but your words laced with poison. “Did you know how much it hurt me to not tell you what I did for a job? A job, that most of the time, kept me safe. But you… you  _voluntarily_  go out and try and get yourself killed—“

“Incorrect,” he challenged his voice firm. “I go out to save the people of this city,  _our city._ That’s why you do what you do, right? It’s why you work for  _him_ , to help save people.”

You rolled your eyes as you snorted. “One, save ‘ _the our_ ’ city shit, Murdock. Two, I signed up to protect this goddamn world, not just the city. Three, do not stand there and compare what I do, to what you do. I work in administration, I just benefit from having some training that helps keep me safe. So, I dare you to push me, I  _fucking_  dare you,  _Daredevil,_ because I have no issue seeing if you can dodge bullets.”

A tense silence fell over the two of you, your eyes returning to the party—to the smiling faces that didn’t know your pain. You recognised a few from meetings, others from newspaper and the news, and some reeked of anything but innocence. You knew you were firmly out of your depth by being here—you worried about Matt, even if you didn’t want to admit it. This was his playground, and you had no idea of the rules. 

You moved closer to him, feeling his hand slide over your back, wrapping his fingers tensely around your waist, tugging you to bend into him. “We  _should_ dance.” Sensing your reluctance, Matt lowered his lips close to your ear as you faked a smile. “We look more suspicious stood like this.”

Unfortunately, you  _had_  to agree.

Taking his hand, you led him on to the floor, listening with amusement as he apologised to those he bumped into. The  _fake-blind-card_ , always a winner you thought bitterly, hating how you had been so sightless yourself to not see it. It was natural to him—too natural—and it made your stomach knot, a sick sensation falling over you. 

You didn’t need to rehash that fight tonight, it still stung your ears from the last time over a month ago. You knew before you even asked that he  _was_  blind, but you hated how you felt the need too still ask. To still confirm it, everything he had said tainted with question marks on whether they were lies.

“I don’t think I’ve said, but you look beautiful tonight, Y/N,” Matt whispered, the two of you having quickly found a rhythm. “I’m the  _luckiest_  man here.”

The coldness around your heart thawed, and you briefly looked up at the ceiling as you sighed. “You’re blind, Matthew, how can  _you_  even tell?”

He shrugged, pressing a kiss to your cheek as the song ended and a new one began. “Call it a sixth sense, Y/N. And there’s the fact you’ve never  _not_  looked beautiful.”

Your body slowed to a near stop, his brow raising behind his glasses as you stared at him dumbfounded. You needed space, you could feel yourself slowly falling for it—falling for the fakeness and the niceness. Matt needed you for this, that was  _all_. Nothing had changed, he was still mad, and you were still hurt. There hadn’t been enough time to heal, not yet.

“Don’t… don’t be nice to  _me_.”

Matt’s hand gripped your fingers a little tighter, his hand pulling your front to meet his, closing the gap between you both. “I didn’t choose  _you_  because of what you do or who you work for,” Matt said in a low voice, as though he had read your thoughts. “I  _asked_  you because I don’t need to fake being in love with you like I would with someone else.”

Your chest tightened instantly, something squeezing around your heart as it tried to grow in size. “Matt…” you pleaded.

“I’m tired of all the lies, Y/N. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you, that I don’t love you.”

Scowling, you shook your head, a bitterness climbing your throat. “Says the one who is currently faking being with me.”

Call it a coincidence, but the song ended. You tried to wiggle your hand free,  wanting to pull away from him. You wanted a drink to drown your sorrows and the bathroom so you could cry. You wanted to fall apart, having forced yourself to stay together for so long. You were tired of the game life was having you play, and you wanted to get out, you needed to get over him—get over the pain. 

Matt must have been able to tell, holding you a little tighter—the way you always wanted him to hold you. “Don’t,” he said softly, so soft it almost broke you. “Please, Y/N?”

You looked around the room, finding no eyes on you, but you knew if you made a scene they would. They’d descend down on the two of you, he’d be in danger—you’d be in danger. 

“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll let you go,” Matt added softly, almost brokenly. “I won’t bother you, I’ll leave you—“

“You broke  _my_  heart,” you said interrupting him, biting down hard on your inside cheek. “I know I hid things too, and I’m not mad about you hiding that from me. I’m mad that you let me lead you around supermarkets and restaurants. I’m mad that you told me to get in here, not because you wanted to be honest. I’m angry that you saved my life and still didn’t have the decency to tell me, just showed up later like the dutiful boyfriend as I got stitches.”

Matt nodded, and you weren’t sure if it was in a defeated manner or in agreement. “I know I hurt you, I  _know_  I did,” he whispered softly, removing his hand from yours before removing his glasses. He lifted his head and tried to make eye contact with you as best as he could, his red shades in his pocket. “But let me put it back together again, Y/N. Give me  _one_  more try.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you let out a struggled sigh, afraid to meet his face, afraid to let go and fall for him all over again. “Is this real? Or is this for the audience…”

“I shouldn’t have let you go that night. I should have come after you, and pulled you close,” Matt whispered, his hand gripping your hip a little tighter as the two of you swayed to the music still, his other hand holding your chin. “I was just… afraid. I can’t give up that side of me, and I couldn’t be the Matt you needed while I hid him from you.”

Your throat tightened, air struggling to be taken in as you stared at him. Those eyes you had fallen in love with, the soft smile that always seemed to be present. You could only fall and hope he caught you; you could only jump and hope he joined you. 

And then the moment was ruined, someone had caught your attention as your heart slowed to a stop, sensing danger as the hairs up and down your spine began to stand up on edge. Your eyes glanced around the room, others distracted, and some fixed on you and Matt. 

“ _Baby_?”

His head turned, a smirk appearing on his lips as you swallowed, eyes fixed on the intense stare coming from behind the two of you. “Call me baby again, I like it—”

You gripped his hand, moving closer as your heart began thumping, hovering your lips over his as you smiled nervously. “We have an audience,  _baby_.”

Matt tilted his head, and it took a second, but you realised what he was doing. Like a freight train, it hit you. You had figured he used all the remaining senses, but with the music and others, you didn’t think his hearing could be so powerful. It made you feel a little sick. You wondered how many times he had heard you through walls talking to Foggy or even Karen; you wondered if he followed your heartbeat when you left his place and heard you cry when you left him that day.

“We  _need_  to go,” Matt said, slowly the two of you to a near stop in the middle of the dance floor.

Your jaw tensed, a fusion of fear and anger circling inside of you. “We,  _or me_?”

Matt, seemingly sensing your new emotion, took your chin with his fingers—a touch you both craved and felt soothed by. You stared into the glasses, straight into the eyes that would be fixed on you if they could be, and burned into his soul how much he meant to you. You felt hurt, but it wasn’t enough to rid what else you felt.

He pressed his forehead to yours and slowly, cautiously, your lips found one another’s. They moved softly together, speaking a language only the two of you could understand. You wanted to curl into him, hold his sides and beg him not to go.

“We need to go,” Matt whispered as your lips broke, the feel of his breath dancing over his skin.

You frowned, utterly unsure of everything. If Matt left, then these people were in danger. “No? You… have to help  _these_  people, some of them, they’re  _innocent_ —“

“My concern is getting you out—“

“—Matt, you can’t leave  _them._ They have guns, I know what they do—“

His hand gripped your chin a little tighter, pulling your eyes to his. “I can’t lose you again,” he snapped in a whisper, and your body flinched at his tone as he swallowed. “Y/N… I need to get  _you_  to safety.”

You nodded, raising your hand up to brush his as the song came to an end. “And then?”

“And then I’ll be what they need me to be, but for now, I need to be what you need.”

Casting a quick look, you noticed the man moving slowly through the crowd, seemingly closer with others either side of you. “ _Baby_ ,” you said, painting a fake smile. “I love you, do you trust me?”

“Y/N?”

Dropping your hand to your thigh, you unhooked the gun you had holstered there. “Tell me if you don’t later, but, our window has closed,” you said, putting a hand over Matt’s ear, pushing him far to the side away from you as you pulled the gun in front of the approaching man’s face. “Where’s Russo?” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an archived piece originally posted on the tumblr, [mvtthewmurdvck](https://mvtthewmurdvck.tumblr.com/).


End file.
